


Her Shoulder

by TerrusDacktellus



Category: Arrow - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Injury, Team Arrow, hurt comfort, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:18:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerrusDacktellus/pseuds/TerrusDacktellus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity is injured on a mission and Oliver is forced to give her stitches without anaesthetic. Digg becomes increasingly aware of the tension between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Shoulder

"I don't like this."

Digg could practically see Oliver pacing, even though he was in another building. He could hear the tension thrumming in his voice, but for once he didn't think his boss was being melodramatic. He wasn't exactly happy with Felicity posing as a call girl to sneak into a shady LexCorp facility either but the place was like Fort Knox and this was their only way in, short of possibly a full frontal assault with a tank. Not that he wasn't seriously considering that, right at that moment. Bribing a hooker to stay home when the head of the branch called for her had seemed like a good idea back in the club, but now, sitting outside a corporate fortress in a hopefully inconspicuous van, watching Felicity, unrecognisable in her brown wig and heavy make up, teeter her way in the front door in six inch heels, he was feeling nervous. Very, very nervous.

"I don't like it either, man."

"Knock it off, you guys! I can't get my slut game on with you two jabbering on the comms!"

There was a spluttering noise in Digg's ear, probably Oliver choking on the idea of Felicity's 'slut game.' He had damn near asphyxiated when she strutted into the club basement earlier in a tiny, indecent dress that Oliver had definitely appreciated if the strangled coughing was anything to go by. He rolled his eyes in the privacy of the van. He was getting extremely fed up of being alternately stuck in the middle of terse silences when they had their spats and intense, longing stares once they'd made up. He wasn't that much older than them, but sometimes that pair made him feel ancient. "Just get it on already, for God's sake," he mumbled, temporarily forgetting the comms.

"I am getting it on," Felicity hissed indignantly and then her voice changed, became throatier, more sultry. "Hey," she said, presumably to the receptionist. "Here to see Mr Tuckish?"

There was a pause, a murmur of another voice, followed once again by the sharp clacking of her high heels. Oliver exhaled impatiently, a rush of static in his ear.

"How's it going?"

"I'm in," she whispered triumphantly. "In the elevator now. Going up."

There was a big difference, Digg soon realised, between watching Oliver storm heedlessly into battle and watching Felicity walk knowingly into the lion's den. The one similarity was their total lack of complaint, their conviction that other people's safety was more important than their own. He'd admire it if he wasn't a damn bodyguard. He chewed on his knuckle worriedly. Everything here depended on speed. Felicity was to get off at the seventh floor, head to the IT lab and find the information they needed, but they had a very small window before security noticed she'd got off at the wrong floor. If they got to her before Oliver got her out, things were gonna get messy.

The elevator door dinged and Felicity's footsteps echoed down the comms. "Come on, come on, come on," said Oliver quietly, but Felicity didn't respond. They all knew he wasn't trying to hurry her up, but rather to will the moment that this would be over and she would be safe to come a little faster.

"In the lab." Digg was impressed by how level her voice was, because he knew her and he knew she was scared but damned if she was letting it show.

"Atta girl," he said approvingly, as the rattle of her fingers flying over a keyboard began. He heard Oliver sigh again, in relief this time, because Felicity was in her zone and nothing could stop her once she got to a computer and in two minutes, this whole horrible thing would be over - "Someone's coming," she said suddenly, in that same even tone but with a slight tremor in it now.

"Hide! Hide right now, I'm coming," said Oliver and looking up, Digg could see him stepping out of hiding, preparing for their exit strategy. One explosive arrow to break the bullet proof glass, followed by another one attached to a zip line, then one Tarzan swing to the fire escape next door and then a quick getaway in the van driven by yours truly. Easy as pie, or it would be, if everyone he knew wasn't a pigheaded idiot.

"No," said Felicity stubbornly. "I'm not done, give me another minute."

There was a flurry of shouts and the thunder of running feet in the background and Oliver cursed. "I'm going in. Digg, get ready."

The moments that followed were probably some of the worst in Digg's life. He started the engine and gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white, listening to the ringing of the shattering window, the yells, the gunshots and that one awful, piercing scream. He heard Oliver roar her name like a wounded animal, a terrible, grief-stricken sound, and he felt his heart shrivel and implode. "What's going on?" he asked hoarsely and for a second there was no answer and he was filled with the sickening conviction that he'd lost them both.

"You ready?" said Oliver and Digg's heart began to beat again. He hit the gas and charged forward, hitting the door release and leaning out the window to look for them. Oliver appeared out of the darkness, half dragging, half carrying Felicity. He jumped the last six feet with her in his arms, hauled her inside and slammed the door.

"Drive!" Digg didn't need to be told twice. He slammed his foot to the floor and shot out of the little back alley like a bullet from a gun. He wove his way in and out of the side streets, flying along the route he'd planned so carefully to avoid all cameras and once he'd got them a few blocks away, he felt the awful tension drain from his shoulders. He turned, relieved, to tell them that they were pretty much in the clear and he nearly crashed the van at the sight that greeted his eyes. He pulled in at the side of the road quickly and scrambled over the seats into the back.

Oliver was cradling Felicity in his arm, with her jacket wadded up and pressed against her shoulder. Her face was ashen, making the thick blood that was staining her neck and dress look almost black.

"Take us to a hospital," said Oliver harshly, his eyes wide and frantic. "Now!"

She struggled feebly."It's not that bad," she said. "Just take me back to the club, I'll be fine. You guys can patch me up there."

"Not a chance," said Oliver grimly. "We're on the other side of town, it'll take us a good forty minutes to get there. We need to get you to a hospital."

"And tell them what?" Felicity struggled upright, her eyes glazed with pain. "How exactly are we going to explain me getting shot the same night as a woman matching my description breaks into LexCorp and gets injured?"

Oliver clenched his teeth and shook his head, clearly trying to come up with some excuse, but even dizzy with blood loss, Felicity was quicker than him. It would have been funny, if she hadn't been covered in blood. "Not to mention the fact that I've already been linked with the vigilante more than once. If this comes out, Oliver, Lance won't be able to cover it up. Not this time."

"You need stitches and we can't wait to get back to the lair," snarled Oliver. "You're losing too much blood."

She waved her uninjured arm airily. "Then do it here! You have the first aid kit, right?"

"Felicity," said Digg quietly. "There's no anesthetic in the kit."

She looked between them, from one to the other, then swallowed audibly. "Well, if you guys don't need it, then neither do I."

"Felicity," Oliver gritted out. "You can't do this. Digg and me, we're different - "

"Because I'm a woman?" she snapped, instantly fired up. "Are kidding me? Women have way higher pain thresholds - "

"That's got nothing to do with it!" Oliver was almost yelling. "It's different because we've dealt with this before, we've been through pain like this before and you have no idea what it's like, no idea what you're about to do!"

She raised her head, almost proudly. "A girl's gotta start somewhere," she said shakily and Oliver sucked in a breath as though he'd been burned. For a moment, his control over his features vanished and he looked anguished, as pained as though someone had stabbed him. Felicity went on, oblivious.

"Besides, it's too late to do anything else now. And you said yourself, I'm losing blood." Oliver looked into Digg's eyes and after a moment, his resistance crumbled.

"Shit," he whispered and grabbed the first aid kit.

He cut away the strap of Felicity's dress and pealed it off to reveal a deep furrow, carved from the top of her shoulder to the middle of her shoulder blade. Digg whistled. She had been incredibly lucky. An inch lower and the bullet could very easily have hit an artery. As it was, she had herself a very nasty flesh wound. He pulled her forward so that she was braced against him and she looked up, her eyes glistening tears. Behind her, Oliver opened a packet of alcoholic swabs, met Digg's eyes, grimaced and ran it over the wound.

Felicity screamed.

Digg clenched his teeth, because he wanted to shout, to roar in anger, because of all the people in this city, surely, surely Felicity Smoak deserved it the least. Behind her back, Oliver was carefully threading the needle, his eyes hollow but his hands steady. He braced one hand on her back, took a deep breath and pushed the needle through her skin. She yelped in pain, gripping Digg's arms like a vice and Oliver drew the thread through, tugging the ragged edges of her flesh together. He paused, took another breath and started again. Felicity whimpered and by the third stitch, she had begun to cry. Digg felt like his heart was breaking. He drew her close, stroking her hair and whispered soothingly in her ear. "It'll be okay, Felicity, shhh, shhh, don't worry, it'll be over soon."

He was so busy comforting her that he didn't notice Oliver until Felicity passed out. After the sixth stitch, when she had stopped making all sounds except the faintest squeaks of pain, she wavered, then went limp in his arms and Digg looked up. He stared, because he had no idea how else to react to this. Oliver was crying. His hands were still steady and sure as he stitched her back together but his face was twisted in agony and there were tear tracks on his face. He kept going, but as he got to the end and Felicity stopped moving altogether, he flinched visibly with every stitch. It took ten in all and when they were done, he swabbed her back again gently - Digg watched in awe, transfixed by the tenderness on his face - and covered it all up with a thick gauze bandage. Then he bolted from the van as though he'd been burned.

Digg grumbled in protest, arranged Felicity as comfortably as possible and waited. After a few minutes, it started to look like Oliver had decided to take up permanent residence outside, so with a sigh, Digg got up and stumped out to find him. He was sitting on the curb, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was in his hoodie, in full view of any passerby. 

"Oliver, come on man," he said. "We're too close, we gotta get outta here." Oliver started to shake and Digg lost all patience. It wasn't like he'd been shot after all. If anything, Felicity had dealt with the whole thing far more bravely than he had. He stepped behind Oliver, hooked his hands under his armpits and hauled him to his feet. He didn't protest at being manhandled like a toddler but he baulked when Digg opened the door and went to shove him in. He braced his hands on either side and refused to move. Digg spun him around and gave him a shake.

"Oliver, for Christ's sake, get in the fucking van," he said harshly, trying to snap him out of the weird trance he'd slipped into. 

"Never again," croaked Oliver and Digg considered strangling him. 

"What're you gonna do, run home?"

"No!" Oliver seemed to be regaining his faculties a little. "I mean we can't ever let that happen to her again. I can't ever see her like that again." He had a look that Digg had seen in Afghanistan, on men who had gone through hell and couldn't face the return journey. "She was so brave," he went on with a little catch in his voice. 

"Oliver, the longer you stand out here, the longer Felicity has to wait for pain killers!" Oliver's face, already white, paled to a kind of cadaverous grey and he got in so fast his legs almost blurred. Felicity was lying propped against the wall, her eyes shut and her lips stretched into a thin grimace of pain. Digg watched as Oliver sat beside her and gathered her in his arms, moving with such delicate care that you'd think she was made of spun sugar. He gently tugged her in so that her head rested on his shoulder, tucked neatly under his chin. 

"Take us home, Digg," he said hoarsely and Digg shut the door and slid behind the wheel. He eyed them worriedly in his rear view mirror, noting the way Felicity had bunched her fists in Oliver's top and how Oliver pressed his lips and nose into her hair. It was beginning to dawn on him that tension between the his friends was more than a light flirtation. He had known that Oliver cared for Felicity, but now he was beginning to strongly suspect that he was in love with her.


End file.
